“No, John. After the Time War and all the freejackings and Doctor Gary selling the White House on Craigslist and Philly getting destroyed, I was impeached.”

“It’s been two days.”

“It was an open-and-shut case, John.”

“Sure. Well, either way: I’m sorry. How you taking it?”

“I’m at Burning Man.”

“Of course you are.”

“Once again, I have returned to my ancestral home, which is an ultra-RV in a field they used to test nukes in.”

“Can’t you just take drugs at home like the rest of us?”

“John, Burning Man is about so much more than taking drugs: it’s about art on drugs, and sex on drugs, and freedom. Drug-related freedom, but still freedom. There’s a lot of drugs, yeah.”

“How’s Doctor Gary?”

“Busy!”

“I would assume.”

“He made a new drug, John. Blackrock for Black Rock. It’s Glyco-Morphohexahydrobenzoylmethylecgonine.”

“Is that spelled right?”

“I have no idea.”

“What is it?”

“Speedball, but you vape it.”

“Wow, did the world not need that to be invented.”

“Selling like hotcakes, John. Also selling well are Hotcakes, which are waffles in a psilocybin/fentanyl syrup.”

“Where is Doctor Gary making all this stuff in the middle of the desert?”

“He stole a couple mobile labs from the CDC when I made him the boss over there.”

“Sure. So: Katy Perry is a Burner.”

“Oh no. I’m with Hillary, John.”

“BurnER.”

“I’m a hunka hunka Burning love, John. I am cleansed by the wind of the Playa. The dust scours the world from me, and the sun bleaches my bones of sin. If only all the world could be at Burning Man, John, then there would be no war. No strife. Just love, and sand, and drugs.”